


Homecoming

by lynnsaundersfanfic



Series: Meeting at Night [2]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Homecoming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:16:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3818473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnsaundersfanfic/pseuds/lynnsaundersfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A meeting at night following Bates' release from prison. Second in the Meeting at Night series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

He is an imposing figure, outlined against the shadow of the heavy iron door, unmistakable in the early morning sunshine. Her eyes drink him in, lingering on his stubbled jaw, his world-weary eyes, the scale and expanse of his body, formidable and intriguing. When his eyes relax into a smile, reflecting her joy back upon her, the world tilts back into place. She turns her face into his shoulder as he catches her in an embrace, breathing in the salt and sweat of him, the scent which had not lingered long enough against her own skin once he was taken away.

Their separation has eaten at her, eroded her spirit, and she has secretly worried that their time apart might temper their physical spark. Now, as he holds her close and kisses her lips, igniting a fire between them that travels out to her fingertips, she knows there will be a reckoning, a fierce coming together. Once they start moving forward, nothing will be able to stop them.

At home, he is greeted warmly and fed, but he won’t rest. He lingers in the servants’ hall and helps her with her sewing until early afternoon, when she is free to walk the grounds with him. They speak of hopes and dreams, of family, and she finds herself falling easily back in step with him. He has been her best friend for a long while now.

When they return to the main house, she must retire to her room to don her uniform for the evening. He refuses to rest until she finally takes him by the hand and leads him to the stairs. She kisses him gently and looks into his tired eyes. “You should go to bed.”

He looks up and down the hallway before pulling her close and pressing his lips to her ear. “I don’t want to be without you.”

A delicious shiver runs through her, and she takes a shuddering breath. “I wish I could stay with you.”

He gives her a pained expression, nodding. "I don’t know when we’ll have the cottage.”

She places her small hand against his unshaven cheek, and he sighs, leaning into her touch, his eyelids drooping heavily. “John, you need to rest,” she says softly, concerned, using his first name to get his attention.

He gives a resigned nod and a small smile, letting his fingers linger against hers before climbing the stairs reluctantly to his old room.

* * *

When he wakes with a start, heart pounding, it’s dark outside, the night deep and black, the window smudged with fog. He hears the sound of muffled, strained voices in the hallway, then the rumble of Mr. Carson’s reprimands before the house falls silent again. He realizes some scuffle amongst the young men has woken him, not a prison brawl. Tears spring to his eyes, unbidden. _You’re safe_ , he calms himself. _You’re home._

Earlier, he had settled into his small bed, miles more comfortable than his prison bunk, and even though she wasn’t with him, his lips still held the faint taste of hers. He had fallen quickly into a sounder sleep than he’s had in ages. Now, he misses her, needs her with a longing he struggles to suppress. He is utterly distraught that he slept through the evening and missed her soft, secret goodnight kisses.

He dresses well before the sun breaks the horizon, eager to be near her. He selects a black waistcoat, and as he slips his watch into the pocket, his fingers brush against a wisp of paper. He lifts the scrap, turning it over in his hands and recognizing it instantly.  Carefully, he unfolds the little note, rereading the cherished lines she penned on their wedding night, savoring the words anew.  

The memories have been imprinted on his mind, played on loop in his head over the time he has been away. He remembers her creamy skin,  the arch of her back as she rose above him, tangling his fingers in her beautiful hair in the firelight as she sighed his given name in a feverish whisper. _Our first and last time together_ \- the words had cut through his mind as he kissed her fervently in a prison visitation room while the guard fidgeted and looked the other way. She deserves so much more than he has been able offer her, and now he intends to make up for lost time.

He gently refolds the scrap and tucks it into the cover of his mother’s Bible for safekeeping. He needs a favor, and he can think of only one person who would help him. _Soon_ , he thinks. _Soon_.

* * *

_Come live with me and be my love, and we will all the pleasures prove.  
Guest hall, fourth door on the right._

* * *

He is waiting for her when she comes down to breakfast, and she takes in the sight eagerly, a breath of fresh air. He is clean-shaven and buttoned into his familiar wool suit, his hair slicked back. He looks like himself again. They share a chaste kiss at the foot of the stairs, as will be their habit for years to come.

“Did you sleep well?” she asks, adjusting his tie.

He smiles down at her, his thumb skimming the edge of his waistcoat pocket. “I cannot believe you didn’t have someone wake me.”

“Well,” she says, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “You will need your rest.”

He steps closer to her, and his large hand comes to rest at the small of her back possessively. “Will I, indeed?”

She clears her throat as Mrs. Hughes bustles by. “We best get on to breakfast, Mr. Bates.”

“Mrs. Patmore gave me something already, since I missed dinner.” He catches her eye and gives her a meaningful look as he reaches out to slip a folded square of paper into her apron pocket. “I have to look after a few things.”

And with that, he presses his lips to the back of her hand and walks away, leaving her breath caught in her throat, burning with anticipation, thinking of what awaited her the last time a note passed between them.

* * *

She hasn’t the time or privacy to read the note until the afternoon, but it has been burning a metaphorical hole in her pocket. She ducks into a deserted corridor, reading the secret words that make her cheeks darken and her pupils dilate.

She absolutely cannot wait to meet him. However, on this occasion, she has ample time to prepare. In the evening, she steals away to her room, locking the door behind her. She moves to the top drawer of her dresser, searching until she finds the small box, lined with tissue paper. She rubs the cream silk and lace of the garter between her fingers with a smile, remembering the hope in her heart when she made the purchase. She knew even then that he would come back to her. She uses the garter to secure her best black silk stockings and covers this with her simple black dress, thinking of their first time together and his excitement in seeing her this way. Then, she hurries through the house, down the corridor to the room she will always think of as theirs.

* * *

_If these delights thy mind may move, then live with me and be my love.  
You already know the place._

* * *

He’s waiting for her with his braces hanging loosely at his sides, the sleeves of his undershirt rolled, exposing the meat of his forearms to her, streaked with soot from starting the fire. His eyes are soft, and his feet are bare. The sight of him, burnished bronze in the firelight, makes something deep within her snap, and she launches herself at him without hesitation.

Her arms fly around his neck, and he catches her, lifting her slightly off of the floor as their mouths meet hotly. No words pass between them as they collapse into the fireside chair. His tongue pushes roughly into her mouth as she settles into his lap. He’s growling under her, tracing the boning of her corset with his thumbs as her fingers move to the front of his trousers.

He catches her hands in his. “Wait.”

She pants up at him, love-drunk and confused.

He presses his forehead to hers, gasping for air. “Should we slow down?”

She frees her hands and unfastens the top of his trousers. “No.”

He smiles wickedly at her. “Never mind, then.”

She gently pushes off of the chair, pulling him to his feet. He turns her, his fingers moving to the buttons at the back of her neck, quickly working her out of her dress. Long fingers skim her waist as he reaches around to unclasp her corset. He pulls his undershirt off over his head and presses close, kissing the back of her neck. She turns in his embrace, and her fingers move again to his trousers, the fabric gaping loosely at his waist.

He steps out of his remaining clothing as he backs her against the edge of the bed. She toes out of her heels as he slips her knickers over her hips. She bends to remove her stockings, and he stills her hand.

“No time for that.”

She laughs as he lifts her roughly onto the bed and covers her body with his, settling between her legs, and they grin at each other for a moment. She feels somehow more exposed with her chemise and stockings still on, and the sensation makes her burn for him. His fingers run down her thigh, stopping when they encounter the silken rise of her garter.

“Paris?” he asks, outlining one of the little rosettes trimmed in lace.

“Do you like it?”

He runs his fingers under the edge of the fabric as he pulls her thighs up over his hips, and he presses into her, sliding his hot length along her slick folds, readying himself and settling above her. Their lips meet greedily, and he is heavy and solid, wonderful.

“I missed you more than you could ever know,” he confides as he moves to enter her.

She blinks back sudden tears. “You’re here now.”

He kisses her softly, and her breath catches as he sinks into her. She presses her lips against his neck, her teeth marking his shoulder as moves inside her. She rises up to meet him, licking her lips with the thrill of it.

“I can’t…” he pants against her neck.

She brushes his sweaty hair off of his forehead, and he looks into her eyes as he thrusts into her again.

“Don’t stop,” she pleads, head restless against the bed.

He stares at her for a beat before putting his head down against her shoulder and losing himself in her completely. She pulls him closer, fingernails cutting into his back until he sinks down against her with his full weight. She wraps her legs around him, and he squeezes her bottom as he drives into her, inching them sideways across the duvet.

She smiles to herself, reveling in the feel of him, all of him, his broad shoulders and musky smell, his delicious weight rocking against her. She dreamed of these moments when he was gone, deep in the night as she slid her fingers against herself and thought of how he had made her come undone in only one night together. Her attempts were a poor substitute for his confident touch. He seemed to know just how to bring her out of herself.

His breath quickens against her, and she urges him on. She feels a familiar stirring deep within her a touch too late, as he sighs his release against her collarbone. She smooths her small hands across his back as he bucks against her again, then stills. She’s still moving under him, teeth grazing the sensitive skin behind his ear.

He props up on his elbows slightly and touches her face, looking into her eyes. “I love you, Anna.”

“And I love you.”

He exhales deeply and rolls them onto their sides, leaning his head on his elbow as she writhes against him. She takes his free hand and places it low on her belly, settling onto her back beside him.

He smiles down at her, dragging the backs of his fingers against her sensitive center. “Is that what you want?”

She nods, wetting her lips. “Touch me.”

His fingers slip between her folds as he turns her, tucking her against him, her back to his chest. He listens to her murmurs of appreciation as he finds just the right rhythm, and she tells him how she missed him, how good he feels, of lying awake at night, burning with the want of him.

“Oh,” she says, “oh…” as she shatters against him.

She turns in his embrace and curls against him. Her chemise is damp with sweat, and he buries his face between her breasts, breathing in the heady scent of their lovemaking as they drift together in the firelight. After a moment, she pushes gently at his shoulder.

“John.”

He hums a drowsy response against her, making her giggle.

“John,” she says more forcefully, and he opens one eye to look at her, reluctant to move. “I just need to get out of the rest of my things,” she says with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, in that case…” He gently separates himself from her, and she rises to peel off her undergarments as he watches with more than passing interest.

She tugs at the bedclothes, and he groans, rising to unmake the bed before settling under the covers.

“Come here,” he says, extending a hand to his wife, the bare-skinned, glowing vision beside him. He settles her back against him as they bundle in the covers and the fire pops and cracks, sleeping in each other’s arms with nothing between them for only the second time in all their years of loving.

* * *

When she wakes, the fire has burned low on the hearth. He’s pressed against her back, dragging his nose across her shoulder blades.

She giggles. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “Why do you ask?” He nuzzles against her neck and puts his nose behind her ear, inhaling deeply before taking her earlobe between his lips. She closes her eyes, finding his hand with hers and guiding his rough fingers around to palm her breast. His right thumb circles her peaked nipple in a maddening dance.

He eases her onto her belly, teasing her legs apart as he settles against her from behind. He brushes the hair from the back of her neck, leaning over her so that he can see her face. “Is this alright?”

She blinks at him over her shoulder. “Of course.”

He kisses her neck, behind her ear, the rise of her shoulder. She pushes her bottom back against him, and he groans deep in his throat. Then he’s rocking against her, deep inside her again, whispering to her as he pushes her apart.

She growls into the pillow as he takes slow strokes, his arms shaking as he spares her the full weight of his body, balancing on his left knee. She meets his thrusts with her own, grinding back against him, but he seems determined to keep the pace subdued. She grips the bedclothes, and her frustration is not lost on him.

“More?” he asks, smoky voice against her ear.

She nods with her eyes closed, turning her burning face into the pillow as she eggs him on, hoping her soft gasps of pleasure convey what she can’t articulate, that she wants him fast and hard, that she wants to be forever marked as his.

He leans down over her. “Hold on.”

He shifts them, pulling her hips toward him and rising fully onto his knees behind her as she sighs into the pillow. He’s moving deep within her, colliding fully with her at every push, and it almost hurts, but she loves it, loves him for it. His hands spread flat across the curve of her waist, spanning it easily, his fingers squeezing the flesh as he strokes into her again and again, leaning slightly to the left.

He hitches up within her, and she groans. He repeats the movement, gauging her response. “There?”

She hums her appreciation, and he continues the movement until she feels herself about to fly apart. Suddenly, he hisses and stills against her.

“What?” she asks in a panicked whisper, almost crying at the abrupt loss of sensation.

He doesn’t answer, smoothing his hands over her back and beginning to move again tentatively. He sighs and halts against her once more.

“Your knee?”

“I’m sorry.” He disengages from her and rolls to a sitting position behind her. She turns and crawls into his outstretched arms.

“Never you mind.” She eases onto his legs and takes in the long, slick length of him once more. “I rather like you this way, Mr. Bates.”

He chuckles, running his fingers through her hair as she rises against him. She huffs with pleasure, leaning back to find that delicious angle again, and her breasts bob enticingly in front of his face. He holds tight to her hips for leverage as she grips his thick shoulders and begins to move against him in earnest. She rises and falls, his sturdy length coming up hard inside her, and she feels raw, wanton and undone, tossing her golden hair, her eyes clamped shut. She slides her fingers down to move between her legs, and he catches her hand, pulling it away gently. He brings her fingers into his mouth, groaning at her raw flavor, the taste of their coming together. She dreamed of this while he was away, remembering her lone experience with him, the tastes and colors, the slide of his skin against hers, and she aims to take full advantage of his presence now.

“God, Anna,” he sighs, and she feels herself tightening around him, starting to fall over the edge. She leans forward so that her breasts are pressed against his chest, and he wraps his arms around her tightly as she sighs his name against his lips with her release.

Then he’s rolling them, tucking her underneath him as he moves into her roughly. He bites his lip as he comes into her, tasting blood on his tongue. She soothes his swollen lip with her kisses as he collapses against her, out of breath. She clutches him against her chest as their bodies cool and wonders how she will get the feel of him out of her mind long enough to go about her work.

* * *

She reluctantly slips from the bed in the wee hours of the morning, pulling him with her. They dress in the dark, and he holds her for a long while before they part for the day.

She sighs, leaning into him. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I’ll see you at breakfast.” He smiles against her hair. “And in the afternoon. I’m home, and I’m not going away again.”

"No, it’s not that.” She eases back in his embrace so that she can see his face. "When we’re together…”

He threads his fingers through hers and kisses the back of her delicate hand. “When we’re together like this, you mean?”

“Yes.” She gives him a small smile before continuing. “I feel… consumed, and when I have to leave you to go about my day, it hurts.” She runs her fingers under his lapels. “I’m being silly, of course. It’s probably something you’ve gotten used to.”

“On the contrary,” he replies, cupping her shoulder blades with his hands, “it’s never been like this with anyone. Not for me.”

She looks down, embarrassed and disbelieving.

He tilts her chin with his fingers and looks into her eyes. “Never.”

She reaches up to touch his face, and he catches her hand, pressing something cool and metallic into her palm. She blinks down at the small key.

“And we will have the cottage in a few days,” he says.

She gives him a questioning smile.

“We will,” he says firmly.

“What have you been up to?”

He pulls her close and kisses her as the sun slips above the horizon. “Live with me, Anna, and be my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> For gibbsgalsa, who requested a second chapter on FF.net.
> 
> Special thanks to gelana78 and terriejane for beta.
> 
> Anna and Bates reference a poem in their notes to one another: The Passionate Shepherd to His Love by Christopher Marlowe


End file.
